


Tell Me What You're Running From

by Amberly



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberly/pseuds/Amberly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pilots are forced to go undercover with Zechs, ferreting out a new terrorist cell growing in a prestigious American University.  But after five years, the pilots have grown apart, and their rifts seem insurmountable--especially when Duo is hiding something. INCOMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well! I lost my laptop for a while there. But now I'm back and writing, and I should be getting back on my updating schedule in the next month or so! 
> 
> This fic is--complicated. There's a lot going on, and I expect that the warnings on it will change as time goes on. I haven't added any tags as of yet, mostly because I want to maintain some element of surprise. I WILL be tagging each individual chapter, and if you have any concerns, please feel free to message me. 
> 
> This fic is going to get dark.

_Agents Chang, Barton, Maxwell, Merquise, Winner and Yuy,_

_There is an anarchist militia group on the campus of Columbia University. We believe they have access to the weaponry to achieve their goals. Your mission is to infiltrate the group and bring it down from the inside. You will begin this mission in 10 days. When you move into the dorm is up to you, but you must be fully moved in by 18:00._

_Guidelines_

_1\. I have divided you into three pairs. Yuy and Chang, you are responsible for surveillance. You will monitor the group from the outside. Barton and Maxwell, you will do infiltration. I don’t care how you get in, but get in to this group, and work on getting in as high as you can. Merquise and Winner, you will be responsible for gathering intelligence. I want to know how everyone on campus feels about the group, as well as any information you can give me about people off campus._

_2\. No contact with anyone not stationed at the college. This includes: family, friends, co-workers, business associates, etc._

_3\. The six of you will be living in a three bedroom all boys dorm. You will share a bedroom and bathroom with your partner, and the dining room, living room and kitchen with everyone else. There is a small balcony. Reminder that the campus (and it’s dorms) are smoke free, as well as alcohol and drug free._

_4\. Please register for classes. You will, for all intents and purposes, be college students. I expect you all to take your studies very seriously._

_5\. You will keep mission logs on a fake journal website I have set up. You will update them once a week with all pertinent mission intel, and any relevant personal information, so that I can monitor your progress. Weekly updates will be made by 0:00 Saturday._

_If you have any additional questions about any of this information, please email me directly to set up an appointment._

_With Regards,_

_Your Commander_

* * *

Duo stepped in to his dorm room and wrinkled his nose. It was cramped, the air hot and close. A dingy window split the wall opposite the door, dividing the room in two. On either side were chipped dressers and battered beds. Duo dropped his duffle on one as he went to the window. He could unpack later. But he wasn’t going to sleep in a room that smelled of stale sweat and mothballs. Not when he didn't have to.

The window came open with a screech, shuddering up the frame. Sighing, he leaned out to feel the sun on his face, lips curling at the soft autumn breeze. His room was one of three in the suite, all branching off a common area. Heero was already there, unpacking food into the fridge. Duo had ignored him, wanting to get his stuff down. He didn’t think any of the others had arrived yet.

“I’m not catching you if you fall,” came an amused voice from the door. Duo jerked, then turned, glaring half-hearted at his roommate.

“Nice to know you have my back, Tro,” he rolled his eyes, throwing himself on his bed. Chuckling, Trowa set his bag on one of the dressers. He’d grown, towering a full foot over Duo, hair still falling over his eyes. Duo fought back a wave of jealousy. He hadn’t grown since the war, still short and scrawny, topping out at an even 5’4, and Trowa--Trowa was over 6’, built and beautiful. Scowling at the ceiling, he ignored his roommate as he unpacked.

“Everyone else here?” Trowa crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the dresser. Duo rolled on to his side, propping his head up ins his hand, a strand of hair caught between his teeth.

“Dunno. Heero is,” He shrugged, looking Trowa over. “You got tall.”

“You noticed.”

“Hard not to,” Duo grumbled, cracking a grin despite himself. Une had put the two of them together for the mission, and Duo was grateful. Trowa kept his mouth shut and his head down. Didn’t ask questions. Duo swallowed as he looked Trowa over again. The attraction was still there, pulling at him like a hook.

He stood abruptly, brushing past Trowa on his way to the door, braid swinging behind him. Trowa’s eyes followed him, face expressionless. Flashing a quick grin over his shoulder, Duo opened the door, desperate to get of the room, to get away from Trowa and the slow boil in his blood.

“I’ll go see who else’s here,” he threw out, shutting the door behind himself as he stepped in to the hall. This mission was going to be Hell. Especially if he couldn’t control himself. Duo peaked in to the kitchen, then relaxed. Still only Heero. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he crossed the space between them, bumping Heero with his elbow. Heero grunted in response. But he smiled, still, looking down at Duo with crinkled eyes.

“Duo.”

“‘Ro,” he replied, in the same tone. He nudged Heero again, then hopped up on the counter’, swinging his legs. “Gonna be weird not being partners this time.”

“Hn,” Heero agreed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the table. He tilted his head, looking Duo over, lips quirking at the flash of irritation on Duo’s face.

“Really?” Duo’s comment was scathing, and Heero grinned.

“No,” Heero chuckled, his grin widening as Duo rolled his eyes. “It is weird. I trust Trowa but... I would prefer to be the one to watch your back.”

“You can watch my back any time,” Duo’s eyebrows waggled, leaning towards Heero. The Japanese man blushed, shaking his head and looking at the ground. He cleared his throat, then looked back up at Duo.

“Will we at least have classes together?”

“Depends, hot stuff. What are you taking?” Duo canted his head, grinning at Heero. The pilot had changed since the war. He was more open, more relaxed. Almost shy. Duo liked the changes he saw. It was proof of what he’d known during the war: that Heero was more than just a soldier. Heero pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket, handing it over with a smile. Duo scanned it, then grinned.

“Algebra! Tuesdays and Thursdays, from noon to 1:30pm. You’re stuck with me, ‘Ro,” Duo beamed at him, handing the paper back.

“I look forward to it,” Heero grinned back at him, shoving the paper back in his pocket. The door to the suit opened, both of them turning their head. Duo slid off the counter, catching sight of blond hair. His nose wrinkled, and he backed towards the hall. Heero raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, letting Duo retreat to his dorm room.

Trowa was leaning against the window, smoking. He looked back at Duo with a quirked eyebrow, exhaling slowly into the open air. Duo shut the door, leaning back against it and snorting.

“Hope you don’t mind if I smoke,” he drawled.

“It’s a little late if I do,” Duo pushed away from the door, shaking his head. He looked over at Trowa, then picked up his duffel. He unpacked in silence, lips pursed. Finishing his cigarette, Trowa flicked it out the window, then stretched out on his bed.

“The others are arriving.”

“And you’re not the welcome party?” Trowa looked at Duo with a frown. Duo shook his head, turning away from the dressed and leaning back against it, lips a thin line.

“Why? I don’t know them. We aren’t friends. We fought a war together. That’s it,” his voice crackled with bitterness, and Trowa propped himself up on his arms, eyebrow raising higher. Duo ignored him, pulling away and heading for the bathroom. The door shut firmly behind him, leaving Trowa frowning and puzzled, wondering where the friendly and outgoing boy from the war had gone. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific warnings! This one is going to be a bit of a slow burn, y'all. I am going to speed it up as much as I can, but I want to get some characterization set down, first. Chapters will probably get longer as we go, too. Duo is gonna be such a little shit in this fic, I love it.
> 
> No major warnings for this chapter! I'll make sure and start tagging when things start getting heavy.

Duo slipped in to the desk next to Wufei at 7:59 on Monday morning, hair caught at his temples and loose down his back. Wufei eyed his former comrade impassively, slowly raising an eyebrow. During the war, Duo had been possessive of his hair, wearing it braided with an intense devotion to the style that had been religious. To see it loose now, trailing in thick, chestnut waves down Duo’s back, startled him. But not enough to show. Wufei inclined his head in greeting, a gesture that Duo returned, and then turned his attention back to their first class of the morning: History of the World.

Duo spent the lecture feigning sleep and ignoring the disapproving frown on Wufei’s face. He sat hunched over his desk, chin in his hand, eyes purposely slitted. There were others watching him, with disapproval. Eyes on him judging and assessing--and a pair of eyes towards the front that were glued to his fall of hair, the curve of his jaw. They’d watched the swing of his hips as he’d entered, wearing black leggings and tight, v-necked purple tanktop. They’d taken in his boots and the tight black cardigan, the dusting of rogue on his cheeks. They were Duo’s target.

His outfit was calculated. Duo didn’t care that they were “girl” clothes. To him, they were clothes. A tool. They made him stand out, showed his body off. And here on earth, they conveyed a certain image: that he was easy. That he was a feminine boy, gay, and a bottom, and weak. Duo didn’t agree with the assessment, with the way value was assigned to his clothes. But he was going to use it, play it up for his own benefit. Especially when it caught the eye of Jared, the tall blond watching him now.

Rumor had already pointed Jared out as a target. Someone who was involved in the group they were here to watch. And if a little fucking would get him into Jared’s good graces, well. The guy was hot, with an arrogant curl to his lip that made Duo shiver. He’d have no problem sleeping with Jared, if that’s what it took. For the mission. Of course. Duo smirked a little, standing as the class ended, stretching languidly. Wufei was glaring at him a little, and Duo raised his eyebrow, nodding coolly to the door.

He exited the classroom and stepped towards the side, lighting his cigarette. Wufei was close on his heels, following him around the side of the building and out of the flow of traffic. Duo took a long drag, meeting his gaze with distant eyes. Wufei adjusted his satchel, the lines of his body tense and rigid.

“I didn’t realize we had a class together,” he spoke, acidic and sharp. Duo shrugged.

“I didn’t either. Not til I walked in,” Duo blew out a long plume of smoke. He didn’t owe Wufei anything, certainly not an explanation. They weren’t friends. His opinion didn’t matter. But they were going to have to work together. He eyed Wufei speculatively, then tossed the cigarette to the ground, sighing and stepping on it.

“Look. It’s complicated. I’m not--going to do well in class,” he ground out.

“You’re more than intelligent enough, Maxwell,” Wufei was serious, black eyes intent. Duo snorted.

“Yeah, but that’s not why I’m here, is it? I’m here to get us in,” Duo’s lip curled, hands sliding in to his pockets. “I have another class. I’ll catch you later, Wufei.” Duo offered him a lazy salute, then sauntered away, heading for the art building.

* * *

 

Trowa was there. He stood next to his easel with his arms crossed, lips quirking as Duo walked in. The slim man made a beeline for him, dropping his bag on the floor next to the easel. Trowa was a distraction, a temptation Duo didn’t think he was strong enough to resist. But he was familiar, at least. Safer than a stranger. And they had Painting together, all day, every Monday.

“Brat,” Trowa greeted him, a smile curving over his face. Duo smiled back a little, tilting his head as he settled at his easel. They didn’t get much of a chance to talk before the professor arrived. There was a lecture, informal as it was, and then they were given an assignment.

“Now. I want you to choose a partner, spend 10-15 minutes talking to them, and then paint them. It doesn’t have to be a portrait. Use your imaginations,” the woman gestured grandly, then leaned back against her desk, watching them expectantly. Duo wet his lips, turning to look at Trowa with his eyebrow cocked.

“Do you want to partner up?” Trowa drawled, setting up his supplies. Duo grinned at him, nodding and hopping on to the stool. Snorting, Trowa shook his head, shooting Duo a sidelong glance. He turned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall, looking at Duo speculatively.

“So. Short round of 20 questions?”

“Make it 10. We only have 15 minutes,” Duo tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ear.

“10, then. Favorite color?” Trowa tapped his chin.

“Purple,” Duo rolled his eyes. “You?”

“Also purple,” Trowa grinned. “Don’t tell anyone. Your turn.”

“What was it like the first time you killed someone?” Duo asked, bright and chipper. Trowa felt the breath knocked out of him, face shuttering. He licked his lips, staring at Duo, and then he pushed away from the wall.

“Terrifying,” he replied, wooden. Trowa didn’t elaborate. Didn’t give Duo the story, and Duo didn’t ask. Simply responded “Messy” in turn. But his question had opened the floodgates, and the remaining interview was morbid, dredging up more past than Trowa liked. More past than anyone else on the team knew. He could understand why: Duo needed to know he could trust him. And Trowa needed to know the same. But it reopened barely stitched wounds, and Trowa turned to his easel with acid roiling in his stomach. They still had four hours to paint, somehow, and Trowa lost himself in it. Next to him, Duo’s eyes were glazed, his lower lip drawn between his teeth as he painted, focus on the canvas.

“Time!” Their professor called out. Duo paused, blinking. He felt like he’d been in a trance, focused and buzzed and solely centered in his skin. Stepping back from his canvas, he cast a quick look at Trowa, grateful to see the same dazed, dreamy expression. Duo wet his lips, setting down his brush, waiting for further instruction.

“Now! Present what you have to your partner and let’s clean up. These paintings will be part of your final portfolio, so don’t forget about them,” the professor tucked her hands in the large pockets of her pants, moving around the room as the other students laughed, sharing what they had. Duo swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck as Trowa stepped over.

“It’s not...very good,” he apologized, self-conscious. Trowa stopped, staring at the canvas. Duo swallowed again as Trowa’s cheeks pinked. It wasn’t a portrait. Not really. It was violets and blues and dark greys, a clown mask over the face of a shadowy figure hovering just above--a small, braided boy. There were the crumbling ruins of a church outlines, the faint smudge of lion paws next to tiny footprints. Trowa stared, fingers reaching for the hovering figure, then dropping. He cleared his throat.

“It’s...good. Duo, this is excellent. I love--you used good color,” Trowa fumbled for words, shoving his hands in to his pockets. It was beautiful, more revealing than the other man probably realized. He nodded to his own painting, suddenly feeling inadequate. Duo had painted more than just Trowa. He’d painted how he saw Trowa, what Trowa meant to him, still, after so many years apart. And Trowa had painted Duo, as he saw him. Stark and naked.

The painting seemed almost diluted, washed out. Grey and black, white and sharp, sudden violet. It didn’t surprise Trowa that they’d used the same colors. Duo stood barefoot and naked, hair draped over his body. There was a scythe in one hand, and a halo sitting crooked over his bent head. His other hand was reaching out, touching fingertips of a ghostly figure--wearing the same half mask as the one in Duo’s painting.

Trowa turned, ready to open his mouth. To apologize, to say something, anything to ease the mounting tension between them. But Duo was gone. Trowa caught the tail end of his hair out the door before it banged shut, and he was left standing there with two paints that showed a lot more emotion than he thought either of them had meant to. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to promise y'all I'll update more often because I would be a liar. I will say! I'm trying to get things updated on a more regular basis. I love these fics, and I want to tell these stories. I just don't always have it in me to give them the emotional energy they deserve. 
> 
> This chapter focuses mostly on the dynamics in the group, and it's pretty slow. But it's got some cute 2x3 interaction, so there's that! 
> 
> There are still no major warnings for this fic. I promise that I will update as they come up, and as always, you can message me privately if you're afraid of having to abandon the fic three fourths through because of a trigger. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading (and putting up with my long ass update times) <3.

“Have you seen Duo?” Trowa shut the door to the suite with a snap, his brow furrowed. It was dark out, most of the campus emptying as students sought the dorms or library. And he hadn’t seen Duo again all day. Quatre looked up from the couch, smiling and shaking his head, a text book open on his lap, the table was strewn with papers. The first day of classes and he was already working on homework.  There was a hum from the kitchen, Heero stepping out with a glass of water in his hand, a plate covered in fruit balanced on the other. Quirking an eyebrow, he sat next to Quatre, placing his glass on the table, resting the plate on his knee. The blond tutted, lifting the glass, and sliding a coaster under it, drawing rolled eyes from Heero and Trowa both.

“I haven’t seen him,” Quatre admitted, replacing the cap on his highlighter. He paused. “I haven’t seen him at all, actually. Not even during move in.” There was disapproval in Quatre’s expression, a slight purse to his lips that had Heero’s shoulders squaring, his jaw setting. Trowa’s kept his expression neutral, watching the way Heero pulled himself away from the blond impassively. The movement severed any physical contact the two might have been sharing. Quatre’s spine stiffened, the disapproval etching deeper on his face. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Heero and Duo had always been close. Of course the Japanese man would be protective. Trowa felt a surge of satisfaction as he watched. Heero was, and always would be, one of them.

“I saw him earlier, on his way out to class. But not since then. Is he in your room?” Heero shrugged, reaching for a slice of pineapple. Trowa tilted his head, then made his way down the hall, opening the door. The bedroom was empty, window open to the breeze. With a grunt, he threw his bag on to the bed, slammed the window shut, then made his way back towards the living room.

“No,” he groused, settling heavily on the floor.

“He is a grown man, Trowa. He can take care of himself,” Heero pointed out, taking another slice. He paused, blue eyes raking over Trowa with needle-like precision. “Did something happen?”

“Heero’s right,” Quatre chimed in, settling back against the couch cushions. “Duo may be a impulsive, but he’s an adult. You don’t need to worry about him.” Looking Trowa over, he tapped his finger on the arm of the couch, eyes narrowing a little.

“Who says I am?” Trowa stood, brushing off his pants. “Just curious. We had a class together, and I wanted to know if he was back yet.” Meeting Heero’s eyes briefly, Trowa turned, heading quietly down the hall. Quatre watched with pursed lips, then turned to look at Heero, his eyebrow raised. The Japanese man said nothing, reaching for a piece of fruit and watching Trowa’s retreat speculatively.

Quatre’s attitude bothered him. It bothered Trowa, too. There had been a slight tightening of his expression at his question. A tensing in his shoulders at Quatre’s dismissal. Something had happened, something that was keeping Duo from coming back to the dorm. And if Trowa wouldn't tell Quatre, he hoped he would at least tell him. Duo had been his partner during the war, and he cared about him. He cared about Trowa, too. Heero finished his fruit in silence, listening to Quatre prattle on about his classes, then stood, his empty glass of water in his hand.

“Heero?” Quatre asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m going to study in my room,” he lied, smiling just a little. “Before Wufei gets back from the library, and I have to share.” Quatre laughed, waving him off, and Heero made his way to the kitchen on sock-clad feet, setting his plate in the dishwasher.

Trowa and Duo’s room was on the way to his own, and Heero didn’t bother knocking, gently shouldering the door open. Trowa was sprawled over the bed, staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face. Heero sat on Duo’s bed, folding his legs up and placing his hands in his lap, watching the floor with avid disinterest. The silence stretching between them was amiable, remind Heero of nights around the campfire and the scent of antiseptic. The dull ache of healing ribs.

“We have a painting class together,” Trowa offered finally, turning his head to meet Heero’s eyes. “Portraits. In pairs.” Heero’s eyes widened a fraction. Oh. They did self-portraits. it wasn’t hard for Heero to put it together. Duo was friendly and cheerful, but he preferred people he knew over people he didn't. Which meant he would’ve stuck by Trowa, and they would’ve painted each other.

“He’s a good painter,” Heero commented neutrally. “Lots of...emotion.” The Japanese man made a vague hand gesture, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“He is,” Trowa sighed. “I don’t think he liked his.”

“No, probably not,” Heero sounded a little amused. “And he probably didn’t like that you liked yours.”

“What?” Trowa sat up suddenly, his elbows back against the bed as he stared at Heero. “That’s--why wouldn’t he want to hear that his art is good?” Heero shrugged, his lips pulling in to a smile. Trowa waited a few moments, then collapsed back against the bed. Heero wasn’t going to say anything else. He was too busy inspecting the carpet. And Trowa knew better than to pry. Duo didn’t want to hear his painting was good. Was that because he didn’t like praise? Trowa frowned. No. Duo loved praise. He lapped it up like a kitten, practically glowed with it.

“I should go,” Heero said, standing suddenly. He made his way to the window, opening it with that same smile still hovering over his lips, then slipped out the door, leaving Trowa starring on the bed. Tipping his head back, he looked up in time to see a foot come down on the sil. Oh. Pushing himself in to a sitting position, Trowa watched as Duo climbed in the window, the smell of clove smoke clinging to his loose hair. He was still wearing the leggings, the tight fabric molded over his calves and thighs, and Trowa took a minute to appreciate the view before he snorted.

“So that’s why the window was open.”

“Yep,” Duo popped the “p” and grinned, settling back on his bed. Trowa took the time to actually look around the room, spotting Duo’s bag half-under the foot of the bed. His books were on the desk, his phone on the bedside table. Shaking his head, the Russian ran his hand over his face, then looked back at Duo. Who was unrepentantly sprawling back against the threadbare blankets, hand hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Brat,” it was exasperated, Trowa’s eyes rolling expressively. “I was worried.”

“About me?” Duo’s eyes crinkled, his lips turning up slightly. “I can take care of myself.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’m fine, Tro,” Duo sat up, wrapping a lock of hair around his finger. “I am.” Trowa ran his eyes over him suspiciously. There were many things about Duo that had changed. He had his nipples pierced now, and his navel, and Trowa could see the edge of ink rising above the band of his legging. “My face is up here, by the way.”

“What?” Trowa’s eyes jerked up, meeting sparkling violet. There was pink dusting Duo’s cheeks, faint and barely there. Trowa smirked. “Maybe if you were a shirt, I could remember that.”

“That’s not much incentive,” Duo slid off the bed with a wink, heading for his desk. He slid a sketchbook out from under the pile of textbooks. He settled back on the bed on his stomach, pulling the pencil from the ringed binder and flipping it open. “You got homework?”

“It’s the first day of class,” Trowa pointed out, then sighed. “Yes, I have homework. Do you want me to stay in here.” Duo hummed a little, sketching a long line on the blank page before him. He nodded, eyes flicking briefly to Trowa’s face, then back to the page.

Heaving a put upon sigh, Trowa stumbled from his bed, walking with exaggerated exhaustion to his own desk. He pulled a book from the bottom of the stack, then grabbed a highlighter from his bag. Trowa had never studied before in his life. But if Quatre was doing it that way, it was probably his best bet. Climbing on to Duo’s bed, he settled at the top with his head against the wall, pressing his side against Duo’s as he opened the book. Duo smiled, shooting a slightly shy look over his shoulder, then went back to his sketch. The room was quiet, companionable, both of them absorbed in their own tasks as the night wore on. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some nice 2x3 bonding. I wanted this to be longer, but the meeting is taking too long to write, and it really needs to be it's own chapter. So that'll happen next time--some shit will be hitting a small fan.

Duo was asleep, sprawled over the bed with his cheek against his sketchbook, foot wedged uncomfortably under Trowa’s thigh. There was a tap at the door, and Trowa watched as it opened slowly, Wufei’s head appearing in the crack. He frowned a little, eyebrows drawn as he took in the sight, then sighed, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he apologized, opening the door wider and stepping in. “Winner thinks we should have a meeting to talk about the mission.”

“At 11pm?” Trowa’s look was incredulous. He shut his book, setting it on the table next to Duo’s bed.

“Yes,” Wufei sighed, running a hand over his face. “I can’t say it’s a bad idea. Even if the timing is...less than desirable.” They spoke in low voices, conscious of the Duo sleeping. Trowa ran his eyes over him, then sighed, shaking his head as he looked at Wufei.

“No,” he crossed his arms over his chest, chin jutting out. “We’ve all been busy today. It’s the first day back, and I know Duo was in class past seven. He can wait.”

“He won’t like that,” Wufei commented, lip twitching. Trowa snorted.

“He doesn’t have to,” Trowa idly rubbed his circles against Duo’s ankle. “Tell him Duo’s asleep. We can meet tomorrow.” There was a pause, Trowa meeting Wufei’s eyes. “Unless you want to wake him up.

“That’s quite alright, Barton,” Wufei chuckled, stepping back through the door. “It hasn’t been that long since the war.” Trowa grinned a little, waving as Wufei stepped out, the door shutting softly behind him. Fingers still stroking the soft skin of Duo’s ankle, Trowa snorted, shaking his head.

“You can stop pretending,” he informed him, pulling his hand back and stretching a little. Duo sat up, looking back at Trowa with a grin, a smudge of charcoal on his cheek. His eyes were still droopy with sleep, lips curved in a tired smile, and Trowa shook his head again, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair over his ear. Rubbing the smudge, he sighed. “You should go back to sleep, though. In case Quatre comes to check.”

“‘Kay,” Duo covered his mouth, yawning, then slid up the bed, resting his cheek against Trowa’s thigh. The Russian ran his fingers over his hair. This was more the Duo he knew. During the war, he’d spent countless nights reading in Duo’s bed, the braided pilot slumbering peacefully beside him. It was hard for Duo to fall asleep, even harder for him to wake up, and Trowa had always felt a sense of pride when Duo sought him out at night, curling contentedly against him. Leaning his head back against the wall, Trowa picked his book back up, opening it to the marked page. With his hand still buried in Duo’s hair, he began reading, pausing when he felt a tug at his pants.

“Out loud?” Duo asked, voice coated with sleep. Trowa blinked. He sighed, shaking his head a little.

“It’s in Russian.”

“I speak Russian,” Duo pointed out. Trowa could hear the point, and he rolled his eyes. Giving Duo’s braid a playful pull, he slid down, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and setting the book back on the nightstand. Carding his fingers through the hair at Duo’s nape, Trowa leaned into his ear.

“You,” he whispered. “Are supposed to be asleep. Now. Go to sleep, brat.” Duo grumbled against his chest, his fingers curling in the fabric of his shir. But he shut his eyes, tucking himself under Trowa’s chin. Trowa kept his hand in Duo’s hair, his chin pressed to the top of his head. Trowa could feel him fall asleep, the sudden heaviness of the body against his a comfort. The looseness of the grip on his shirt. Reaching back behind himself, he fumbled for the lamp, turning it off a muffled yawn of his own. Duo breathed soft and even against his neck, and Trowa felt an overwhelming gratitude, his own eyes drifting shut as he listened to the soft, whistling snores of the man against his chest.

* * *

  


Trowa stumbled into the kitchen the next morning with stiff limbs and a sore neck. Spending the night in Duo’s bed had been an adventure. The braided pilot was a restless sleeper, tossing in Trowa’s arms and butting against him as he dreamed. He was surprised he didn’t have a black eye. One of Duo’s dreams ended with an elbow in his face, and Trowa’s cheek felt bruised. They all had their nightmares, but the intensity of Duo’s surprised him. Usually, sharing a bed kept the nightmares at bay. Last night it seemed to have made them worse. Shuffling to the fridge, he opened it and pulled out a carton of orange juice with his name written on the side. He drank deeply, hand still holding the door open, eyes drifting shut.

“That’s disgusting,” Quatre commented, setting his coffee mug in the sink. Trowa pulled away from the carton with a pant, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s mine,” he pointed out, replacing the cap and setting the carton in the side of the door. He closed it, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against it, green eyes narrowed. “I don’t think it really matters.”

“We do have glasses,” the blond pointed out, tilting his head and leaning his hip against the island. Trowa stared at him, one eyebrow raising, and Quatre gave up, finally, throwing his hands in the air and shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying, Trowa. There’s no need to be so uncivilized.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Trowa turned his head, looking away from Quatre and out the window. It was too early for this. He wasn’t ready to spar with Quatre. He had class soon, and he needed to shower. And probably wake Duo up. But Quare was tenacious, if nothing else, and

when he leaned back against the counter across from Trowa and clasped his hands together, he knew there was no escape.

“You and Duo are getting along well?” Quatre’s head tilted. It wasn’t a question, no matter how it was phrased, and Trowa fought the urge to tense. This was an old argument, started during the war. Back then, Trowa had taken Quatre’s overtures of friendship at face value,  and he’d confided in him without thought. Trowa didn’t think Quatre had ever forgiven him for what he’d revealed.

“We always have,” Trowa inclined his head in return.

“Trowa--”

“Quatre,” the Russian cut him off. He smiled. “You’re sharing with Zechs? I bet that’s nice. He seems like a...clean person.”

“That’s because I am,” Zechs entered with a towel around his waist, his hair damp and brushed away from his face. “Good morning, Trowa.”

“Good morning.”

“We’re going to meet tonight,” Quatre jumped in, his hands falling to his sides. “Around 7. Will you both be out of class?” Trowa nodded, pushing away from the bar. He said nothing, striding down the hall to the door, letting out a long, slow breath. They’d been a fractured team at the best of times, during the war. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing what new tensions had sprung up after five years. Delaying it had seemed the best option last night, and Trowa wished he could delay it again. He wanted to have more of a handle on Duo’s change in personality and the frictions it would cause.

Trowa opened the door to the bedroom to find Duo sprawled on his back, his arm thrown over his head. His eyes were closed, the other arm draped over his bare stomach. It was a sensual position. Trowa’s eyes raked up the expanse of Duo’s legs, lingered on the bright silver in his skin, then moved to his face. Duo met his gaze, eyes half-lidded and drowsy, a soft smile curling over his lips. It was almost innocent, a rosy pink dusting Duo’s cheeks, and Trowa’s mouth went dry. He swallowed.

“That’s the second time in two days you’ve checked me out,” Duo commented, voice husky with sleep. “See somethin’ you like, Tro?” Trowa shut the door behind himself, stalking through the room. Reaching the bed, he knelt, fingers skimming over Duo’s cheek, running down his chest. He could hear his breath catch, could feel the flutter of his muscles under his skin as Duo’s flush deepened.

“You know what I see?” he started, voice a purr against Duo’s ear. It earned him a whimper, and heat flared in him, lips curving. He nipped playfully at Duo’s ear, fingers tracing along the band of his pants. “I see a young man who’s going to miss his first class.”

“Shit!” Duo sprung out of bed, eyes wide and slightly glazed. Trowa laughed, leaning back on his heels as he watched his roommate’s frantic search for clothes. Duo shot a glare over his shoulder, throwing a pair of balled up socks at him. His cheeks were still flushed, and Trowa could see a playful sparkling in his violet eyes.

“You’ve got time,” he offered. “If you hurry. And stop getting distracted by me.”

“You’re an ass, Barton,” Duo growled, straightening with his clothes in his arms.

“What did I say about being distracted?” Trowa chided, pleased when it drew a laugh. Flicking him off, Duo left the room still chuckling, leaving Trowa alone with his thoughts. There had always been tension between them, a delicious pull. During the war it had been easy to ignore. Trowa had more important things to worry about, and Duo and Heero were so thoroughly joined at the hip he couldn’t be sure if they’d been fucking or not. Now...Trowa hummed a little, standing and stretching deeply. Maybe this was something they could finally explore. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rougher than I usually post, but I won't have the time to edit it for a couple of days, and I wanted to get it up! I'm also updating mobile so, hopefully it's not too wonky. This one took FOREVER. Six person dialogue is NOT my favorite. Let me tell you. 
> 
> No major warnings here! Just the boys talking. More notes at the end to avoid major spoilers.

Duo was the last to arrive, five minutes after seven. He dropped his bag to the ground with a heavy thud and then threw himself in to a chair, looking around the room. Everyone was stiff, their arms over their chest, and he noticed that Trowa’s jaw was clenched, his brow suspiciously clear. Heero was frowning, curled into the couch with his eyes locked on the table. His typical thinking expression. Duo crossed his legs, letting one booted foot kick lazily in the air. Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, he met Quatre’s gaze coolly, folding his hands in his lap.

“Sorry I’m late,” he shrugged, not sounding sorry at all. Quatre grit his teeth and smiled.

“It’s fine. Did a class run late?” Something about his tone made Duo sit up straighter, fingers clutching the end of his braid tightly. It made him angry, irrationally, and he grinned as he flicked his braid over his shoulder, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair and dropping his chin in to it.

“No,” he drawled. “I didn’t want to come.” To his left, Trowa and Wufei snorted, a synchronized sound that made him grin wider. Duo had never been close to Wufei, but he respected him, and they shared a sense of humor. An appreciation for honesty. He didn’t have to look at Heero’s face to know that he was rolling his eyes, lips curved in a fond smile. Which was good, because if he had, he would’ve missed the flicker of irritation on Quatre’s face.And that would’ve been a shame.

“Could you please try and take this seriously?” Zechs snapped, leaning forward a little. Duo turned his gaze to him, violet eyes flat, almost bored. He tapped his chin, then sighed, leaning back in his chair with a mournful expression on his face.

“Well...I guess,” the smile he flashed Zechs was sweetly malicious, and Duo batted his eyelashes at him. “If it means that much to you.”

“It should mean that much to you,” Quatre cut in, drawing himself up. Trowa snorted again, then shook his head, leaning over to flick Duo’s cheek.

“Brat,” he scolded, voice colored with laughter. “Play nice.” Duo grumbled, but smiled. Brat. It was an old nickname, from the war. It stood for many things, a reminder of the I closeness during the war. He was _bratishka_ and Heero was _hermano_ , and Duo knew Heero cherished his nickname as much as he did his own. With a put upon sigh, Heero straightened, giving Duo a knowing look before turning to Quatre.

"Was there something specific you wanted to talk about?” it was clipped, all business. No amount of therapy could take the Soldier fully away from Heero, and that comforted Duo just a little. Just enough to let him relax, ignoring the part of his brain that screamed “threat” every time Zechs shifted. He still hadn’t forgotten what he’d done during the war. He didn’t think he ever would.

“Yes,” Wufei agreed, lips twitching. “As entertaining as Duo is, I do have homework.”

"Very well,” Quatre folded his hands neatly in his lap, sitting straight and looking around the group. “I think it would be best if we had a plan for infiltrating the group. It would help us coordinate our actions. And it would give us some supervision over each other, help us keep things from getting out of control .” His eyes flicked to Duo as he spoke, and Duo stiffened minutely. Frowning, he leaned back, violet eyes narrowed.

“I’m not a thing, Quatre,” he sounded bored, almost lazy, picking absently at his nails. . On the couch, Heero had bristled as well, eyes flattening as they turned to Quatre.

"I will admit,” the Japanese man’s voice was quiet, “that having a coordinated plan could be beneficial. Everyone should know what everyone else is working on. It wouldn’t do to have two of us pursuing the same lead at the same time.”

"Exactly, Heero, thank--”

“But,” Heero’s voice rose, his frown deepening as he looked to Quatre, “I think the suggestion that we need to be supervised is...wrong.” It was clearly not what Heero wanted to say, and Duo felt a faint shiver of amusement. He could always count on Heero to have his back. They’d been partners once, and Heero still felt that bond strong. Duo’s lips curved in a tiny smile of thanks, one that he knew only Heero would notice.

“Absolutely, Heero,” Zechs ran an absent hand through his hair, then looked at his nails. “We don’t need to be supervised. But.” He held up a finger. Quatre’s mouth was already open to respond, cheeks dusted an angry red. Zechs turned his gaze to Duo, the ice blue of his eyes intent and cold. The finger he held in the air pointed to Duo, directly. “If you think I’m going to trust Duo without supervision, you’re out of your mind.”

“Excuse--” Heero’s protest was cut off by Wufei clearing his throat. Duo did nothing. He said nothing, leg crossed back over his knee, foot bouncing in the air. The look he gave Zechs was blank, devoid of emotion, and Wufei’s eyes darted briefly to Heero’s, a faint crease between his eyes.

“This is not productive,” he stated firmly, shooting a frown at Zechs. “We are already held accountable to Une, and to our partners. That will be enough. It’s far too early to be bickering amongst ourselves. We have our assignments, and we are all skilled enough to complete them. For now, let’s agree to meet regularly and to keep each other updated. Once we’re in, we can reevaluate.” It was quiet for a few moments. Duo steadily ignored everyone’s eyes, looking out the window instead. Trowa’s eyes were locked on Quatre, steady and calm as they surveyed his face, taking in the raised eyebrows, the pursed lips. Heero, however, was nodding, giving Wufei an approving nod.

“Thank you,” he stated simply. Standing, he grabbed his stack of books from the table. “Wufei, you mentioned having homework as well. We should both go work on that.” Inclining his head, Wufei smiled, gesturing to the hall. Heero nudged Duo’s foot with his knee as he passed, something the braided pilot studiously ignored. The two of them left without further comment, and Quatre exchanged a look with Zechs, opening his mouth to speak.

“Save it,” Duo was up in heartbeat, pulling his bag over his shoulder. “I don’t care.” He walked swiftly from the room, shoulders held straight, clutching the strap of his bag. It wasn’t until he was in the room that he let them drop, slumping against the door and rubbing a hand over his face. With a heavy sigh, he pushed away from the door and flopped on the bed, burying his face in the pillow and wrapping his arms around it. Closing his eyes, Duo took a ragged breath, then let it out shakily, letting himself relax against the bed as his thoughts wandered.

* * *

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Trowa hissed, arms crossed over his chest. Zechs was gone. He’d left almost right after Duo, muttering to himself and leaving Trowa and Quatre alone. He was sizzling with anger, tense and fuming as he glared at the blond. Quatre stared calmly back, one eyebrow raised, hands clasped lightly on his lap.

“Trowa,” he spoke firmly. “You’re biased. Completely. You’ve read his file. You know what he’s done. How can you trust him after that?”

“I haven’t read his file,” Trowa ground out, glaring more intensely. Files were supposed to be confidential, hidden in a system Heero himself had designed. And somehow Quatre’d managed to get his hands on Duo’s. On all of them, probably. The blond in front of him leaned forward.

"Oh?” Quatre’s other eyebrow raised. “I see. So you don’t know. Well, Trowa. Trust me--”

"Stop,” he stood, looking coolly at Quatre, lip curled. “I don’t care. I know Duo. And so do you. Or have you forgotten your friends, Quatre?” Trowa left Quatre on the couch, staring at him in surprise as he stomped down the hall.

* * *

 

He found Duo sprawled on the bed again, nose pressed in to the fabric of a pillow. His boots were still on, braid trailing along his side. Lips quirking affectionately, Trowa shook his head and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. With a look over his shoulder, Trowa padded down the hall, tapping his knuckles on the room Heero shared with Wufei.

"Yes?” Wufei's voice was muffled, but there, and Trowa stepped in quietly, shutting it behind himself and looking between them. Wufei was seated at the desk with a book, taking notes as he read. Heero was settled on his bed, carefully focused on the math problem in front of him. It made Trowa smile, a slight upturn of his lips. And then he frowned again, straightening. He cleared his throat.

“Have either of you read Duo’s file?” Trowa blinked as they both whipped around to look at him, gazes sharp.

“Personnel files are confidential,” Heero responded automatically. Wufei nodded slowly in agreement, black eyes narrowing.

“Why? Have you?”

“No,” Trowa sighed, rubbing one hand over his face. “But Quatre has.”

“What? How?” Heero sat up, giving Trowa the full weight of his gaze.

“I don’t know,” Trowa ran a hand through his hair. “But whatever he read turned him against Duo.” Wufei’s eyes widened at that.

"Do you think he’s read all of our files?” Wufei looked slightly sick. Trowa understood why. They were all Preventers, and some of the things they did in the line of duty were horrific. And if the files went back earlier, to the war and before? Trowa shuddered to think of what would be in his own. If Quatre had read Duo’s, it wasn’t a stretch to assume he’d read them all.

“Probably,” he admitted quietly.

“But he still trusts us,” Heero rolled his eyes, ignoring the sharp look Wufei sent him. The L5 native took a deep breath, then shook his head.

"That’s his decision,” Wufei put it bluntly. “If Quatre doesn’t want to trust Duo, he doesn’t have to. What’s important is that he work with him. I’ve seen nothing to suggest Duo won’t take this assignment seriously. As long as that continues, I have no reason to doubt him.” Wufei was thinking about their first day of class, Duo’s dismissal of his education. There had been a tightness around his eyes, a curl to his lip that Wufei recognized from the war. To his own nights battling the scars of self-loathing he’d accumulated doing what he’d believed to be right. Heero frowned, but Trowa merely nodded. He turned to leave, then paused, fingers brushing the knob of the door.

“He’s different. I think something happened.”

“Like what?” Wufei’s expression was intent, eyes narrowed.

"I don’t know,” Trowa admitted. There was nothing else for him to say. He left the room as silently as he’d entered it, leaving Wufei and Heero exchanging looks behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want them to get along! I promise everyone's behavior is completely justified, given the information they have. But there is so much tension and it's NECESSARY but I promise this fic is NOT about vilifying Quatre or Zechs, and as the POV shifts that will hopefully be clear


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major warnings here.

Heero woke on the couch to find Duo sitting on the coffee table and watching him, a bowl of grapes on his lap. Rubbing his eyes, he stretched. It was Friday afternoon. He’d come home from class and taken a nap in the living room, relishing the quiet. Everyone else was in class. Heero enjoyed the time alone, stretching out on the couch and staring out the window as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Covering his mouth, he sat up, brow furrowing as he noticed the grape on the couch. And the other on the floor. He looked up at Duo.

“Hey ‘Ro,” Duo gave him an innocent smile, popping a grape in his mouth. Heero’s eyes narrowed.

“Duo,” he tilted his head slowly, collecting the grapes in his hand. “Why are there grapes over here?”

“Oh. Uh, Oops?” Duo’s face remained innocent. And then he threw a grape. It hit Heero right on the nose, drawing a surprised grunt from him as it fell to his lap.  The Japanese man looked down, then up at Duo. Giving him a cheshire grin, Duo began to scoot back on the table, holding the bowl of grapes firmly. “I’ll, uh. Just head to my--shit!”

Heero growled, moving to lunge at Duo. The braided man squeaked. As a last ditch effort of self defense, he threw the bowl of grapes at Heero, scrambling over the wooden surface in an attempt at retreat. Looking over his shoulder, Duo stiffled a giggle. Heero looked shocked, staring at him with wide eyes, grapes scattered around him. And then he pounced, knocking Duo off the table and on to the floor. The grappled, Duo giggling wildly as he tried to break Heero’s hold on his wrists. There were grapes under them, and Heero could feel them squished against his back as Duo finally hooked a leg around his waist, rolling them and pinning his wrists to the floor.

“Ha,” Duo panted out, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. Heero felt his lips twitch. Schooling his expression, he glared up at him, then lunged again. The move put Duo flat against the ground, his face scrunching at the feeling of grapes against his back. With a vicious grin, Heero reached for a grape, grabbing it placing it on Duo’s forehead. And then he pressed down, squishing it with the palm of his hand. Duo cringed, wiggling under him.

“Oh shit,” he whined. “Fuck. Heero, I’m covered in fucking grapes.”

“You started it,” Heero reminded him, sitting back against Duo’s hips. “And I’m covered too.” He stood fluidly, offering a hand to Duo. It was taken with a smile, a mischievous twinkly still lurking in those violet eyes. They cleaned up the grapes in companionable silence. Heero watched as Duo set the bowl in the sink, dumping the grapes into the trash and then leaning his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Duo didn’t look like he’d changed much. His hair was still long, and he was still short. He had the same eyes, the same upturned nose. But there was a tenseness to him now that Heero didn’t recognize. A set to his jaw that was new.

“How long did you watch me sleep?” Heero asked, grinning a little. Duo rolled his eyes.

“Like five minutes,” he snorted. “You’re pretty when you sleep, but not that pretty.”

“Everyone else at class?” Heero ignored Duo’s comment, the back of his neck flushing.

“Yeah, I guess. They aren’t here, anyway.”

“It’s weird to have everyone together again.”

“You’re telling me,” Duo huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Heero frowned.

“Quatre’s an ass, Duo. I missed you--and I know Trowa did.”

“Yeah,” Dropping his arms, Duo sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I know, ‘Ro. I know you did. And I’m glad to see you.” He smiled crookedly. Taking a step forward, Heero wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly. He could feel Duo stiffen, but held on. After a few minutes, a pair of wiry arms wrapped around his waist, Duo nuzzling against his chest. Setting his chin on Duo’s head, Heero sighed. Quatre and Duo had never been close. Not really. But there had still been a measure of respect. A measure that was gone now, and it clearly upset Duo.

"Thanks Ro," Duo pulled away, the corner of his mouth turned up. Heero smiled back.

"Anytime. Now," he pulled away, giving Duo a look. "I need to change my shirt." That earned him a laugh, a sharp, surprised bubble of it spilling from Duo's lips. Grinning, Heero turned, walking away from Duo with warmth in his chest. He'd missed all of the pilots. But he'd missed Duo the most. And seeing him again, bringing laughter and smiles to his face, gave Heero more peace than five years of therapy had.

   It was a good feeling.

* * *

 

Quatre was surprised to see Wufei in the cafe, tucked in to a corner with a book on the table. According to the schedules he’d memorized, his last class of the day had ended a couple of hours ago. With an interested hum, Quatre crossed the bustling cafe quickly, dropping his bag in the seat next to Wufei’s. The Chinese man looked up suddenly, eyes narrowed, mouth opened to speak. It closed when he caught sight of Quatre. Smiling a little, Quatre slipped into the seat opposite him.

“Wufei,” Quatre greeted. “Aren’t you done for the day?”

“I am,” Wufei crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s your point?”

“You’ve been here a while,” the blond shrugged, looking away from Wufei and towards the cafe counter, his blue eyes twinkling. Zechs was there, taking orders at the register, a bright smile on his face. Quatre smirked, looking back at Wufei with a raised eyebrow.Snorting, Wufei shook his head, leaning forward in his seat and touching Quatre’s arm. He wanted to make sure the blond’s attention was completely on him.

“Yes,” he hissed out softly. “Because I am studying.” Quatre blinked, the smirk on his face disappearing. Wufei snorted, turning back to his book and reaching for his cup of tea.

“I see,” with a sigh, Quatre stood. “I apologize for assuming. I’m going to get something. Would you like anything?”

“No,” Wufei watched Quatre go through his lashes, his face still turned towards his book. And then he sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. He couldn’t blame Quatre for his assumption. There had been a time during the war when he had confessed his attraction to Zechs to the blond--a time he regretted. Giving Quatre a secret was giving him power, and Wufei did not like what he thought he might do with it. Especially not after the meeting on Tuesday. Wufei frowned, his hand closed around the mug of his tea. Setting it back on the table, he looked up, watching the two blonds at the counter with a speculative expression.

He had been surprised by their behavior. It wasn’t something he took joy in admitting. Zechs had never been close to any of the pilots, but Quatre. Wufei was sure that Quatre and Duo had been close during the war. Quatre had seemed to make it his goal to befriend all of them, and while Wufei recognized it now as a political strategy, at the time he had been touched. Naively flattered that the Winner heir had wanted to befriend the only remaining survivor of a backwater clan. He’d had few friends growing up, and the charming blond had likely seen him as easy prey, but, politics or no, Quatre had always been an attentive friend.

Wufei wondered what had been in that file to make him turn on Duo.

“Earl grey,” Quatre sat across from him with a smile. “What are you studying?”

“History of Conflict,” shutting his book, he gave Quatre a direct look, his lips quirking. “Although if you’re going to continue to talk, studying will be difficult.”

“Sorry,” it was chuckled. Quatre did not sound sorry at all. “I’m just glad I caught you. It’s good to catch up.”

“We share a dorm, Quatre. This is hardly the first time we’ve seen each other.”

“True. But there are--others, in the dorm. It’s nice to have time one on one.”

“What do you want, Quatre,” Wufei sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. The implication was not lost on him. “Others” clearly meant Duo, and while Wufei had a small measure of distrust towards all of his companions, he did not appreciate Quatre’s continued antagonism. He especially did not appreciate the blond’s attempt to drag him into whatever was happening between them. Across from him, Quatre sighed, setting down his cup and looking in to it with a furrow between his brows.

“So you don’t know either,” Quatre frowned, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Know what?”

“Nothing. I--shouldn’t have said anything,” it was vague, Quatre’s gaze locked on the swirls of tea and milk.

“Is this about Duo?” Wufei asked bluntly. The response he received was extreme. It was like a flip switching. Quatre went stiff, his face jerking up, eyes hardening in an instant, lip curling in disgust. Wufei drew back slightly, eyebrows raised in alarm. “Quatre?”

“Don’t talk to me about him,” Quatre growled out. “It appears none of you know, and I--can’t give you classified information. But don’t talk to me about him.”

“If he’s done something that could compromise this mission--” Wufei started, eyes narrowing.

“No,” Quatre cut him off. “Une sent him for a reason. She knows what she’s doing.”

“Did she give you the file?”

“I can’t talk about it,” Quatre stood, leaving his mug of half-finished tea on the table. “You know what classified means, Wufei. I thought you all knew--but I was wrong. I won’t bring it up again.” His expression of anger was smoothed over almost immediately, an apologetic smile blooming on Quatre’s lips. “I’m sorry. I should go, before I take my anger out on someone who’s been a good friend.”

Wufei watched Quatre go with pursed lips, tapping his finger on the table. Looking across the cafe, he found Zechs staring at their table. He looked as baffled as Wufei felt. Quatre had access to information the rest of them did not. That much was clear. And whatever that information was, it was enough to set Quatre against Duo. He wondered if it would set him against others as well. Quatre had called him a friend as he left, but Wufei had seen the glimmer of distrust in his eyes. But how did he get the information? Who had given it to him?

Standing, Wufei packed his things. It was time to head back to the dorm. He could study there. And talk to Heero. If any of the pilots had information on Duo, he thought, it would be Heero. The two had been partners during the war, practically joined at the hip. There had been a time...well. It didn’t matter. Stacking the cups, Wufei carried them to the counter. He set them down with a nod to Zechs, then adjusted the bag on his shoulder. Heero first, and then Trowa. Whatever had happened between Quatre and Duo needed to be fixed before the entire mission was jeopardized. Wufei just hoped it would be easy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I understand that some of you are upset that the boys aren't BFFs. That's cool! I can see how that would be upsetting, especially if you feel very strongly about their relationships. But I'm not going to waste my time (or spoil my story) by bending over backwards to give you such and such justification, or make this or that promise every time I post an update. I won't be offended if the current level of tension has you "noping" out of the story. 
> 
> We are at the beginning of what is going to be a long fic. There is no quick and easy resolution to any of the things happening right now, or that will happen coming up. At the end of the day, you either trust my storytelling abilities or you don't. And that's on you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major warnings. References to sexual activity and mental illness/voluntary hospitalization, just in case that's a thing for anyone.
> 
> Thank all of you for reading! I appreciate all of you for sticking with this fic, despite the erratic update schedule. Updates going forward will be every other week. I've committed! Next update will actually be from Quatre and Zechs' perspective, so! That will be exciting, if you're looking for that. 
> 
> Feel free to come chat on [tumblr](http://amberlyinviolet.tumblr.com)! I'm tracking fic: tell me and fic: tmwyrf

Heero was amazed at how quiet the weekend was. He’d spent most of it in his room, studying alone to escape the small undercurrents of tension that had plagued the dorm all week. But when he’d had taken a break from to brave the common area, he’d found Trowa seated next to Wufei, reviewing notes from the class they shared, a tiny smile hovering over the Chinese man’s mouth as the Russian made some comment about the class. Quatre and Zechs were both in the living room, Quatre’s books spread over the coffee table as he plowed through his Intro to Law homework, a highlighter in one hand. Zechs was reading quietly, curled in the corner chair with a steaming cup of tea on the table. It was warm, almost genial, the kind of thing he could remember from Peacemillion.

Duo, Heero noticed, was conspicuously missing. It pained him to admit that his lack of appearance probably had a great deal to do with the peaceful environment. The animosity from Quatre made Duo hostile, sarcasm coating everything he said. Heero felt a pang of sadness as he admitted, to himself, that Duo’s absence lightened the atmosphere of the room considerable. With him gone, Quatre was left with only Trowa to target, and the Russian skillfully ignored every barb the blond sent his way. If anyone else noticed that Duo was gone, they didn’t mention it. Not until Wufei finally spoke up as they  prepared for the coming week.

“I haven’t spoken to him,” Heero answered the inquiry with a frown. “It may be better to ask Trowa. They do share a room.”

“I have asked Trowa,” Wufei sighed, sitting heavily on his bed.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Heero sat down as well, blue eyes calm and clear. “He’s more than capable of protecting himself. We all are.”

“That is not what I’m worried about,” pushing a hand through his hair, Wufei drew his lower lip between his teeth, shooting a look at Heero and then promptly looking away. Heero frowned.

“You don’t trust him,” it was not a question.

“I don’t trust any of you,” there was a slight curve to Wufei’s lips, gone almost as soon as Heero noticed it, his expression turning gravely serious. “Tell me honestly, Heero. Are you at all worried about what could be in his file?”

“I am,” Heero admitted. “but not for the same reason Quatre is.”

“You’re worried about what happened to him.”

“I’m worried for him. I know people change, Wufei, but Duo would never betray his friends,” Heero left no room for doubt.

“Heero,” Wufei sighed again, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. “It has been five years. I don’t think he sees us as friends anymore. He was very hostile to Quatre.” Heero shook his head, running a hand over his face and turning to look out the window. It was dark, now, the dim glow of streetlights seeping in. Over the last five years, he and Duo had only exchanged a handful of words. Heero had told him his plan, and then disappeared. His absence, he knew, had been felt keenly. But Duo had supported his decision, sending him postcards when he could and respecting his silence. It had never occurred to him that his wasn’t the only silence.

“Did you two talk? At all?” Heero asked it softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“I--no. We did not,” Wufei leaned back resting his head against the wall. “I needed time to find peace. And after it...did not occur to me. I did not think he would want to talk to me.” He met Heero’s eyes guiltily, then looked away.  

“I was gone,” he admitted softly. “I checked myself into--into a clinic. Duo knew. He helped me pick one out. But I was gone for five years. I only checked out a couple of months ago. I don’t think Trowa talked to him, either.” Heero looked down, picking at the blanket and avoiding Wufei’s gaze. Checking in to the facility had been the right decision. Heero did not regret it. The time spent there had been time invested, time he had used to come to terms with his childhood, his hand in the destruction caused by the war. It had let him find a balance between the soldier he’d been programmed to be and the man he wanted to become.

“Heero,” there was a weight settling next to him, a warm hand on his arm. Heero turned his head, meeting Wufei’s eyes. The Chinese man squeezed his arm, expression serious. “Five years is a long time.”

“I know,” Heero admitted. Then he set his jaw, leveling a hard look at the man beside him. “But he’s still my friend. I know he’s different, but he’s still my partner.”

“I’m not saying--”

“He’s my friend, and I left him alone. We all did. We have no idea what could’ve happened to him,” Heero interrupted, standing. The look he gave Wufei was blank, his eyes dark, a faint sheen to them. “If I--If I were Duo, and my friends had left me, I would be hostile to them, too.” He left the room quietly, leaving Wufei to sit in the darkness, worry lining his brow.

* * *

 

Duo appeared in the early morning hours, slinking into the dorm with his hair in a messy bun, feet bare. Holding his boots in his hand, he shut the door as quietly as possible, every muscle in his body tensed as he listened for his roommates. It was late, and he was exhausted. The weekend had been busy, spent trying to catch Jared’s eye. He’d succeeded around five, finally, looking up at the boy through his eyelashes as he sat across from him in the cafe, offering Duo a hot chocolate with an arrogant smirk on his face. So far, everything was going according to plan. Duo moved silently through the shadowed living room, then froze, eyes widening in surprise as they caught sight of the figure on the couch.

“Heero,” he greeted.

“Duo,” the figure rose, closing the space between them to inspect his appearance.. “I was worried.”

“‘Ro,” Duo crossed his arms over his chest.

“Will you at least tell me next time?” Heero was unflinching, mirroring Duo’s posture. After a brief moment, Duo nodded, and that was all it took. Heero relaxed, smiling in triumph. Snorting, the braided man punched him on the shoulder.

“You ass. How many times do I have to tell you I can take care of myself?”

“I know you can, Duo,” Heero gave an exasperated sigh. “But it doesn’t hurt to keep me updated.” Duo rolled his eyes, slinging his arm over Heero’s shoulder and dragging him down the hall.

“Sure, Mama ‘Ro. You got it,” he drawled. “Now. I need to shower. And you should sleep. You’ve got an early morning class.”

“So do you,” Heero pointed out, ignoring the nickname. Duo was warm against his side, a comforting weight. It was a weight he had missed. The familiar smell of cloves was overlaid with someone else, though. Something that made Heero’s nose wrinkle. This close, he could see marks on Duo’s neck, faint bruises that would only darken as time when on. Heero frowned, pausing and turning Duo towards him, eyes scanning him over. Watching him warily, Duo raised an eyebrow.

“I’m skipping,” he yawned, covering his mouth, and Heero’s eyes widened, suddenly seeing it all at once. Duo’s eyes were hooded, his lips swollen. There was still a flush on his cheeks, still a looseness to the way he walked. Dropping his arm, Heero stepped back, eyes narrowing.

“Duo,” it was almost a growl, Heero’s hands fisting at his sides. “I was worried about you. And you--you were out--” Duo caught his hands at once, holding them in his own, the hard edge of his violet gaze softening.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” the quiet sincerity in his voice pulled Heero up short. “I’ll tell you next time I go out, okay? I’m sorry.” Taking a deep breath, the Japanese man nodded. It wasn’t that Duo was having sex. It was that Duo had prioritised having sex with checking in. And he seemed to know that, somehow saying exactly what he needed to hear to calm down. Heero squeezed his hands, nodding again, offering a crooked, apologetic smile.

“Good,” Heero loosened his grip. “No go shower. You stink.”

“Hey!” Duo protested, shoving at him. “You ass. I smell great.” Laughing, Duo headed down the hall, shoes still in hand. He paused at the door, turning to look over his shoulder at Heero, lips curved in a smug smirk. “Oh. Before I forget. I made a contact in the group. Goodnight!”

Heero blinked, then snorted. Of course. That’s what Duo had been doing. He shook his head, turning to head back to his own room, catching sight of Trowa as he did. The Russian said nothing, just stared through the crack in the slightly ajar door with glittering green eyes. Heero tilted his head, meeting that hard gaze with an unflinching one of his own. The door shut, and Heero bit back a chuckle, opening the door to his bedroom.

Trowa had spent the weekend seeming unconcerned by Duo’s absence, making jokes about finally having time alone. He and Wufei had talked briefly about his plans to infiltrate the group, something involving the campus acrobatics club. And while they’d all been busy planning and studying, Duo had been several steps ahead of them, insinuating himself in to position. With a flicker of pride, Heero crawled in to bed. Duo was head of all of them, more focused on the mission than anyone else had given him credit for. _Good_ , Heero thought, losing himself in sleep. That would show Quatre.

 


	8. Half Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd unfinished chapter.

Quatre came into the kitchen yawning, hand clapped over his mouth. He was still dressed in his pajamas, his hair still tousled from sleep. There was coffee, the rich smell teasing at his nostrils, and he went mechanically to the pot, pouring a mug of the thick brew and leaning back against the counter. It was then he realized he was not alone. Zechs was in the kitchen, grumbling to himself as he rifled shirtless through the fridge. Quatre took a sip of the coffee and watched, brow furrowing as Zechs finally slammed the fridge door shut, stalking around the island to the pantry. 

“Everything okay?” 

“No,” Zechs ground out, slamming open the pantry door. He riffled through it for several minutes, then pulled out a box of cereal. To Quatre’s confused amusement, he took the box and threw it in the trash, using his hand to force it in as deep as he could. He paused with the coffee mug halfway to his lips, mouth dropping open in shock. Without a word, Zechs went to the sink and began to wash his hands, lips pressed in a thin line, cheeks flushed with anger. 

“Zechs?” 

“He ate my grapes,” the blond replied, shutting the water off with precise, snappy movements. Zechs grabbed a towel and dried his hands, then threw it back on the counter, tossing his hands in the air. “I don’t know why. Or when. But he ate my fucking grapes. They were labeled. My name was on them. I don’t know why Une allows that thief to go around unchecked. His behavior is a disgrace! Where is he? Probably still in bed, the lazy rat. I’m going to drag him out—“

“Good morning, Zechs,” it was calm, Heero entering the room and striding confidently towards through the kitchen. “I’m sorry about your grapes, by the way. I ate them the other day, while studying. I can pay you back, if you like.” The fight went out of Zechs at once, his mouth gaping open. Quatre took a sip of his coffee, watching in curious amusement as Heero smiled at him, passing by him on his way to the fridge. Opening the door, he took out a bottle of orange juice, then looked at Quatre. Wordlessly, he opened the cabinet, holding out a glass to Heero. Taking it with a smile, the Japanese man filled his glass, then set the orange juice back in the fridge. By then, Zechs’ mouth had closed, eyes looking suspiciously over him.

“ **You** ate my grapes?”

“I did,” Heero agreed, taking a sip of his juice. “I wanted a snack while I was studying, and I haven’t had a chance to run back to the store, yet. I didn’t mean to eat all of them. I looked up from my book and they were gone.” He smiled, then tilted his head. “Do you want me to replace them? I don’t mind. It’s only fair.”

“I—that would be very kind, yes,” Zechs said stiffly. He rubbed the back of his neck, then turned, heading towards the hall.

“Maybe we can shop together later,” Heero suggested. “Since you’re going to want to replace Wufei’s Honey Nut Cheerios.” The blond stiffened, then nodded, continuing on his path. Raising one eyebrow, Quatre looked Heero over, then set his mug down. He waited for the sharp snip of the bedroom door closing before he spoke.

“You didn’t eat his grapes,” it came out as an accusation. It wasn’t that Quatre didn’t believe him. It wasn’t like Heero to lie. But it was like Heero to protect his friends, and he and Duo had always been close.

“I did,” came Heero’s mild reply, the Japanese man once again in the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs. 

“Duo ate them, too.”

“Yes,” he agreed, taking down a bowl and breaking three eggs into it. “He did.”

“You let him think—“

“Quatre,” Heero interrupted him, looking at him at last. “If I learned nothing else in therapy, I learned that I’m not responsible for what people think. I ate his grapes. I will replace them.” The last bit was sharp, Heero slamming the frying pan on the stove. Quatre watched as he melted a pat of butter, then added in his eggs. His coffee finished, he set the mug in the sink and turned, ready for a shower.

“Quatre?”

“Yes, Heero?”

“You might want to think about why you’re so willing to believe the worst about Duo.” 

Quatre didn’t reply. He simply continued on his path, anger and guilt sitting heavy in his stomach. Heero had no right, he thought to himself. No right trying to pass judgement. If he knew—if he’d seen what Quatre had seen—he wouldn’t defend Duo. There was only the smallest sliver of doubt as he shut himself into the bathroom. A quiet voice in the back of his mind suggesting that maybe Heero defended Duo because he knew something Quatre didn’t. He ignored it, brushing it aside and turning on the spray. Heero was misguided. He was right. And in the end, he would find a way to make him see.  

* * *

 

“You didn’t have to do that, Ro,” Duo was leaning against the wall, arms crossed protectively over his stomach. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess. Like he’d showered and gone to bed without brushing it. The sight was familiar, and endearing, and Heero smiled, glancing over at the coffee pot. There was still some left, just a little. If there hadn’t been, Heero would have made more. Duo pushed off the wall, coming to lean against the island, chin resting in his hands, elbows on the marble as he looked up at Heero. His eyes were wide, endless violet, full of warmth and affection. Familiar, something he’d missed in their five years apart. Heero took a drink of his orange juice, then nodded towards the coffee pot. 

“Good morning, Duo. I think Quatre left you a cup.”

“They could be right, you know. I’ve done some pretty terrible things.”

“We’ve all done pretty terrible things.”

“Heero—“

“No, Duo. Listen to me. We’ve all done pretty terrible things. Quatre blew up a colony. I killed a plane full of our allies. Those are not the actions of good men,” Heero insisted. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, then shook his head. “Look. You’re my friend, Duo. My best friend. I don’t know what Quatre’s issue with you is—I don’t know what Zechs has against you—but I’m not going to let you do this on your own.”

“Do what?” Duo straightened, eyes flashing with sudden anger as he put his hands on his hips. “Deal with bullies? With assholes who think they know me? You’re a little late, pal. What, do you think I joined Preventers to the sound of universal adoration?” He scoffed, looking away. His words were a blow, a payback for a fist in a stomach so many years ago. Heero’s hand tightened on his glass, his eyes glued to the wild mass of Duo’s hair, the way it curled around his shoulders, hung down his back in waves. 

“I know,” he said at last. “I’m sorry I wasn’t—I’m sorry we weren’t there for you.” 

“It’s,” Duo sighed, the fight going out of him in an instant. He dragged his hand over his face, shuffling towards the coffee. “It’s not your fault. Really, ‘Ro. It’s not. You had to do what you had to do, and I—did what I did. It’s cool.” He flashed Heero a smile, taking down a mug and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Heero was silent, watching his friend, his old partner. The steady, unconscious grace of his movements as he added cream, and then sugar. The way he stirred it exactly five times clockwise, then five times counterclockwise. Duo brought the mug to his lips and caught his gaze, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hm? Oh,” Heero flushed, shaking his head. “Just thinking about how some things never change. You take your coffee the same way.” It was an answer to a question he hadn’t been asked. That, more than anything, told Heero that Duo was still Duo. After five years, he could still read the pilot like an open book. Could still sense the undercurrent of emotion in whatever space he occupied. Duo was his friend, and he was still Duo—even if the others didn’t want to believe that. 

“Heh,” Duo bit his lip, eyes lowering. “Yeah. I guess I do.” They fell back into comfortable silence, Heero finishing his juice and setting the glass in the sink. Duo made room for him easily, shifting aside without so much as a glance. Setting his mug down, he began to brew another pot, filling the filter with grounds. 

“That’s a good idea,” Heero noted. “Wufei will murder you if he finds out you drank the last bit without making more.” Duo’s response was an impish grin, flashed at him as he set the pot to brew.

“Age has brought you wisdom, Yuy,” came the dry response from the doorway, and Duo snickered, watching as Wufei entered the kitchen, heading immediately to the fridge for the milk. “Thank you, Maxwell.” 

“Anytime, Fei,” Duo beamed at him. Wufei paused at the pantry, eyes narrowing as he looked over the collection of cereals. “I’m gonna go back to bed. Have fun with that, ‘Ro.” Heero glared at Duo’s retreated back, his laughter echoing joyfully down the hall. 

“Yuy,” Wufei’s voice was dangerous as he turned, black eyes indignant. “Why is my cereal missing?” 

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

 Wufei was surprised when Duo flopped down in the seat next to him at their early morning History class. He hadn’t expected to see him, not with his late night. Wufei didn’t have all of the details, but knew that Duo had been out doing something for the mission, something that had him creeping back into his bed in the early hours of the morning. He’d heard Heero come in from his watch, the man’s soft chuckles waking him briefly from dreamless sleep. And yet here he was, settling into the seat next to Wufei with a bored, practiced lazy look on his face, dressed in leggings and an off the shoulder teeshirt, his hair in a messy bun. 


	9. Author Note

This will be the last update for this fic. Although it breaks my heart to do it, I've simply spent too long away from it. I remember the important plot parts, but not the story as a whole, and despite multiple attempts, I simply haven't been able to plug back in.

Here is what happens:

Duo and Trowa manage to sneak their way into the group on campus.

Tensions between the pilots (especially between Quatre, Zechs, and Duo) begin to rise. Eventually, they come to a head, and we find out what Quatre has against Duo: Quatre is dating Relena. There was an assassination attempt, and Relena was shot. Instead of tending to her, he went after the assassin--on Une's orders. The file Une gave Quatre was doctored, showing that Duo defied orders, not that he followed them.

Why did Duo listen to Une instead of caring for his friend? It's not like Duo's one for rules, and he cares about Relena. Well, basically: Une's blackmailing him. There was a Preventer's mission where Duo was sent in undercover to breakup a child trafficking ring. He got close to one of the kids (the kid reminded him of Solo, if Solo were 15), and promised to save him. When that didn't happen, Duo not only Completely Lost His Shit, he also went off the grid. He was 17 or so when this happened (who knows how Duo is, really?), and it took Une quite some time to find him. When she did, he was addicted to drugs, swimming in grief and guilt, and using "unsavory methods" to get what he needed. 

Une gave Duo two choices: come back and toe the line and do what you're told, or face a court marshal and also I'll tell all your friends what you did. 

If that sounds legally wishy-washy, it's because it is. You and I know that, a lot of the other Pilots know that, but Duo's not really in the place. He's a good agent, does what he's told, but Une is definitely keeping him on a tight leash, and his self-esteem is pretty damn low when the story opens. 

As the fic goes on, Heero and Trowa slowly start to unravel this story. Duo and Trowa end up together, with Heero added on. Heero is ace, and he fits in perfectly, providing a good balance to the triad. 

Wufei and Zechs end up together too.

Anyway--Quatre and Duo finally have it out when something happens that makes Quatre suddenly go "YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT THE PERSON I THOUGHT YOU WERE WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED DUO" and gets a burst of the self-disgusting and roiling self-hatred Duo has. He's been very carefully keeping that whole Space Heart thing under control, but in the heat of the argument he can't. Heero and Wufei are there as well, and Heero convinces Duo to come clean with Quatre. Wufei, who is horrified, decided to get in touch with a contact he has back with Preventers--against Une's explicit instructions.

My idea was to have this happen while three of them were doing something related to the group, with Heero being shot at. This would lead into the revelation that the Preventers are being told that the five pilots are actually RUNNING the anarchist group, and that technically there is no mission: Une set them up. 

Relena has been kidnapped, the anarchist group has been given responsibility, and Quatre has been named the head. Une fears he and Relena are growing too powerful, and as a combined force would not only upset the balance, but would unseat her. She's firmly convinced that all of her actions are based in keeping peace, no matter the cost (yeah, this includes what she does with Duo). 

Obviously, the "final battle" is the pilots first taking down the group, then rescuing Relena and exposing Une. Duo and Quatre are back to being friends, Zechs is very apologetic, and everyone ends up happy together--with Wufei as the new head of Preventers. Duo leaves the organization to ACTUALLY go back to school, and he, Trowa, and Heero find a place near the campus to live. Heero's still a Preventer, and Trowa consults. Quatre leaves Preventers to focus on his political and business career--he and Relena become the Worlds Best Power Couple. Zechs and Wufei also have a happy relationship, especially once Zechs leaves the Preventers to pursue a sudden passion for cooking--something he picked up as a barista. 

SO~There you have it. As you can see, it's still rough and there are tons of gaps. I don't have this story in me anymore. But I wanted to at least share how it ends.


End file.
